


Magic and Moments

by QuickYoke



Category: Tamako Market
Genre: F/F, Fluff, nothing but fluff, you'll need to see a dentist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1468957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickYoke/pseuds/QuickYoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tamako wanted to be a magician as a child, but it took Midori to show her that you didn't always need magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic and Moments

* * *

 

_i._

They were nine years old and Tamako had the largest eyes Midori had ever seen. Kanna's father had hired a magician for her birthday party, a woman with short black hair combed over in a gentlemanly swoop across her brow. She wore a tuxedo and a cape draped elegantly across her shoulders, punctuating her words with a dramatic flare of its red underside. Long lengths of colourful ribbon and confetti erupted from her sleeves, and she pulled a stream of coins from Mochizou's ear – much to his amazement. But now she had suspended the crowd with a low voice, her arms folded together. Held between her pristine gloved fingers was a spindly black wand capped with white.

Tamako watched the magician, enraptured, mouth hanging slightly open, leaning forward on her knees in anticipation. All around them sunlight washed Kanna's backyard in a rose and gold haze, midday in early summer. Everyone watched the magician, but Midori watched Tamako.

Black hair bound back in twin tails, two silky drops to her shoulders. Chapped lower lip. A streak of grass high across her cheek from an earlier bought of roughhousing on the back-lawn. Eyes wide, glistening in the light, ripe with anticipation.

With a fold and flourish, a pale dove leapt from the magician's hands. The crowd gasped in unison. Tamako stared after the flap of white wings; Midori felt her breath catch at the look on her face – bright with astonishment, all cheer and no earth. When dove dipped and disappeared behind a tree, she rounded upon Midori, bursting with exuberance, "Did you see? Did you see? It was magic!" She clasped one of Midori's hands between her own and gazed over her shoulder at where the dove had last been seen, "I wish I could do magic like that!"

Mouth dry, Midori grasp Tamako's warm hands, "You can," she said, vehement, "I'm sure – if it's you – you can!"

Tamako flashed her a dazzling smile, then dashed away upon seeing that the magician was making balloon animals upon request.

Midori gazed after her. Tamako moved like some sprite or nymph, trailing joy from the fluttering hems where skirt brushed her dimpled knee-high socks. Surely a girl like that was magical.

Later that week Midori perused the contents of her grandfather's shop. Her fingers grazed the many boxes of jigsaw puzzles and painted figurines safely stored away behind hard plastic. She stopped at a display of wands, some gold with silver stars and pink hearts, others wooden and wickedly twisted like a crone's knobbly wrists. Hesitating, she reached out and snatched up a plain magician's wand, identical to the one at Kanna's party.

"Obaa-san!" she called out, "Can I have this, please?"

Her grandfather peered at her from beneath his cap. He smiled and nodded, "Of course! Say hi to Tama-chan for me!"

Cheeks flushing, she ran over the the mochi store, waving at Tamako's kindly grandfather and mother on her way up to Tamako's room. Tamako herself was flipping idly through a magazine on her bed, humming that tune her mother always sang – voice lilting and slightly off-key.

"Ah, Midori-chan!" she greeted happily.

With a twirl of her fingers, Midori revealed the wand from behind her back. Tamako's face lit up in wonder, and Midori tapped her lightly on the top of her head with the tip of the wand, "Ta-daa! Now you can do magic and look the part too!"

It was the first time Tamako hugged her. Midori couldn't remember ever feeling so elated.

* * *

 

_ii._

The bustle of students, sneakers squeaking on the polished gym floor. Summer drew ever closer and class was winding down. The gym teacher made a last call for equipment before locking up the storage room, and everyone started filing out.

"Where's Tamako" Kanna asked at the door.

Frowning quizzically, Midori looked around, "That's weird. I swear she was here earlier. I'll go look out back. See you in history in a second?"

Kanna nodded and turned to leave, "I'll let the teacher know why you're tardy."

"Thanks!"

Midori jogged across the now empty gym, footsteps echoing, the sound caught in the high rafters. Hands gripping the frame of the back door, she leaned out, looking around until she spotted a lone figure huddled against the side of the building. Tamako sat against the wall, knees drawn to her chest, obscured from most of the word by a low hedge. Midori made to raise her hand and call out, but stopped when she saw the slump of Tamako's narrow shoulders. Slowly she approached, then – tucking her gym shorts down – slid to the ground beside her, legs crossed.

"Hey," she began, unsure, "are you alright?"

Tamako was carving circles and geometric shapes in the soft dirt at her feet with the tip of the wand Midori had given her almost three years ago. Time had not been kind to the toy; it had garnered much wear from eager fingers, scratches all along its once glossy surface, and one of the white caps was missing.

"I'm not magical," Tamako said after a long pause, as forlorn as Midori had ever heard her, almost bitter, "I tried," her grip on the cheap wand tightened, "I tried bringing her back, but it didn't work."

She could almost see it: eleven year old Tamako whacking her mother's funeral urn repeatedly with the plastic wand until the white tip broke off, tears streaming down her face, her father prying her away before she could shatter the urn, a desperate failed resurrection.

Wrapped her arms around Tamako's shoulders, Midori pulled her close. Tamako buried her face in the crook of Midori's neck and sniffled.

Midori stroked her dark hair and whispered, "I still think you're magical."

* * *

 

_iii._

They were thirteen and they had just picked up baton a few months previously. Tamako had taken to it slowly, but with the kind of endearing enthusiasm that set her apart from the crowd.

The three of them were practicing in the street outside of Tamako's family mochi shop. Autumn wind rustled the leaves of trees, weakly clinging to the branch, the street alight with foliage, brilliant russets and scarlets, bristling with colour. Kanna had forgotten her baton in homeroom, so they shared two between them. Kanna and Tamako twirled away, while Midori waited for her turn.

She stood to the side and simply observed. There, the graceful flick of Tamako's fingers, arm outstretch, a streak of pale skin slipping from beneath her powder-blue sweater. There, the smooth dip of her collarbone, peeking out, the dark spot low on her neck illuminated by a breath cloudy with frost. There, her cheeks bright with a pink glow from the chill in the air, the tips and curls of her delicate ears similarly tinged. More and more often Midori found herself falling into moments like these, noticing every fine detail, the smallest things bearing an ever-increasing capacity to ensnare and entrance.

"Midori-chan!"

"Huh?"

Midori blinked, then started. A spinning baton flew towards her. Letting loose a startled cry, she leapt out of the way, and the baton clattered to the ground.

"Ah! Sorry!" Kanna began, but Midori just waved her away.

"It was my fault," she replied, apologetic.

Tamako looked between them, then smiled. Hopping forward, she struck a pose like a conductor, arms outstretched, one hand firmly gripping her baton. Her arm flashed out; Midori flinched, only to feel a gentle tap on her temple. Blinking in surprise, she looked questioningly at Tamako, whose smile widened, "I've cast a spell – now you're certain to pay attention to the baton instead of to me!"

Face flushing, Midori stammered, "I-I was watching you to m-make sure there were no mistakes in your routine!"

But Tamako merely laughed, good-natured, and skipped back to her place on the road, still wielding her baton like a wand.

* * *

 

_iv._

The prince and Choi had left for their island home yesterday. Things had, for all intents and purposes, returned to normal – Dera fluttering about as usual, Usagi Market a sea of lively activity – yet something felt off.

Cupping her tea between her hands, Midori eyed Tamako as she bustled about, putting together an assortment of snacks. Kanna and Shiori were on their way; Midori herself had arrived early to their little Saturday soirée. Down the hall she could hear Dera's loud proclamations to Tamako's father, who grumbled in return. Her eyes happened upon a long thin rod tucked away into a nearby bookshelf. She pulled it out and smiled down at the old wand. A small crack ran down one side, and only one white capped remained – looking rather chewed upon – but overall it was intact.

"Sorry for the wait," Tamako emerged from the kitchen and placed a tray on the kotatsu before wriggling her legs under the blanket to get warm, "Ah!" she said, "My old wand!"

Without preamble, Midori dropped the wand on the table and leaned over the corner of the table to envelop her in a hug. Tamako stiffened for but a moment before returning it, arms wrapping around her and holding her tight. This was it; this was what was missing.

Retreating back to her side of the kotatsu, Midori sank low into the blanket, hiding most of her face and glancing away, "I wanted to do that yesterday. When you – about your mother...But the dumb bird got in the way."

Tamako picked up the wand, grinning, and playfully rapped Midori's head with it, "You don't need an excuse to hug me, Midori-chan."

Cheeks red, Midori grumbled, "I know."

* * *

 

_v._

Red and green ribbons adorned lamp-posts lining the streets to school, and the odd store here and there displayed a jolly fat Santa Claus in their windows, or hung wreathes on their doors. The sky was a clear crisp blue, belying the ice that slicked the concrete sidewalks every morning. Christmas drew closer with every passing day, and Tamako was turning seventeen in less than a month. Soon they'd all be graduating, moving on to university and careers and life, and Midori couldn't think of anything more terrifying.

"Kanna-chan! Midori-chan! Do you want to come to the Christmas Lights Festival with me tonight?" Tamako asked jovially, the tassels of her woolen scarf jostling in time with her prancing steps as they made their way to school.

Kanna shook her head, "Sorry. I have an uncle, aunt, and two cousins flying in from Hawaii today. I'm expected to help entertain them at a family dinner."

Tamako's face fell, but Midori jumped it, "I can go."

"Great!" Tamako beamed, "I'll see if Anko, Mochizou, and Shiori want to join! Meet at my place at eight?"

"Sounds like a plan," Midori replied.

Later that evening, though, when she arrived swaddled in a warm winter yukata, a lone Tamako bounded out the door to greet her, bundled up in a pea-coat and thick boots, a large bag swinging from one shoulder.

"Where are the others?" Midori asked, peering around Tamako, expecting Anko to pop out from behind her older sister, still shorter than Tamako by a head, much to her dismay.

"Mochizou is sick," Tamako explained, "Shiori already had plans, and –" she glanced around before leaning in conspiratorially, "Anko has a date!"

Grinning mischievously, Midori linked arms with her friend and guided her down the street, "Spare no detail!"

It didn't take much insistence for Tamako to launch into excited whispers about Anko's latest beau – a fresh-faced boy from the year above with a penchant for Heian poetry – as they ambled towards the Lights Festival nestled in a nearby hillside park.

Night descended quickly, but the festival was lit with green and red lanterns, punctuated by tall heat-lamps like umbrella stands, fanning out a flood of heat under which groups of people huddled, clutching styrofoam cups filled with tea purchased from a short row of stands in the park. All of the heat-lamps were taken, yet Tamako, unfazed, pulled Midori aside to a more secluded are of the park. Beside them reared a copse of trees, protected them from any wind, and the nearest lantern was a good twelve meters away, leaving them just enough shadow to appreciate the fireworks, forthcoming.

From her bag Tamako withdrew a blanket, which she spread across the grass stiff with frost, and a large silver thermos. Together they sat, hips and shoulders pressed together to conserve heat between them, legs tucked away, and Tamako poured them each a cup of hot chocolate. Tendrils of steam rose into the air. They drank and chatted easily until a shrill shriek announced the beginning of the fireworks display.

Bursts of chrysanthemum light in the air, long willowy strands glittering in the sky, and the crowd gasped its approval. Tamako's gaze was riveted upon the sky, eyes reflecting back the scintillating show, starlight encased in water or ice.

Breath captured somewhere deep in her chest, Midori watched the reflection instead, eyes traveling along Tamako's profile, resting at the pale line of her throat, chin upturned from the lapels of her cream-coloured coat.

Warmth – Midori glanced down to see that Tamako's hand had sought out her own. When she looked back up, Tamako's attention had turned to her. A crackling boom shook the sky, greeted by applause from the audience – white and gold showers in the air, a distant corona – but Midori shivered from something else entirely.

Before she could even blink, Tamako swooped forward, warm mouth pressed to hers. She tasted like chocolate and fire-roasted mochi.

Frozen in place, Midori did not remember movement until they broke apart. Tamako swallowed nervously at the stunned look on Midori's face and turned away, "Sorry. I just..." she mumbled, fiddling nervously with a button of her cream coat, "Christmas should have some sort of magic moment..."

Expression relaxing into a smile, Midori reached out to tuck a lock of dark hair behind Tamako's ear. Tamako blinked in surprise, expression soon melting away when Midori leaned in and placed a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

"You don't need magic," Midori murmured, hand curling around the nape of her neck as Tamako's arms rose, winding themselves low around her waist, pulling her close, eyes lidded, lingering at Midori's mouth. Their noses brushed, cold, "You can kiss me whenever you want."


End file.
